9.30.2014

my blog's new title: A WRITER's WELL

what in the heck does that mean, ashlyne? a writer's well?  did you mean "write well"?  no, and yes. :)

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like this well in the picture (whimsical right?). sometimes i feel like this is the perfect representation of my brain. the ideas, if there is rain, are pretty much overflowing. but other times, they seem like they are so far down, my voice echoes when i go searching for the good one, the right one. but the well is always there, ebbing and flowing, and i have learned to embrace, if not enjoy it. 

this blog is the outpouring of my journey, as lame as that sounds. i'm a writer, there's no doubt about that, but i am constantly learning exactly which kind of writer i am, where i fit, learning, learning, learning how the world of publishing works. most of my blog comes from trial and error. most of my writing does too...actually, most of my life is that way. i bet yours is, too. 

so the blog got a name: a writer's well. say hi.


9.20.2014

what if i can't afford to JUST be a writer?



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life changes. always. you can count on it just as much as you can count on the clock to keep ticking. what does that mean? you have to keep ticking, too.

forgive me for assuming, but i dare say that you, just like me, are definitely a writer. you're sure of it. other people are too. but the world might not see it that way...yet.

so until then, you are a double agent. you work just like the rest of the american dreamers, but you also write as much as humanly possible. i don't think that's a bad thing, and i'll tell you why:

a little background first

these days, i'm a real estate agent, have i mentioned that before? it's my "day job", if you can call it that. a lot my work is actually done at random hours: late night texts with a counter offer, late night emails with issues, early morning conversations, weekend (lots of it) working. sometimes i work more on the weekend in a 48 hour period.

i feel like the past five years,  well really since i graduated from college, i have been reinventing myself. i was a signed artist for a few, signed songwriter only for a little while, and then i did the books for my husband's restaurant in an interim period. but right before we got married two years ago, i got my real estate license. it was more on a whim than a plan, but it works for me. i don't exercise the same half of my brain when i sell real estate, which makes me hungry for my writing after a long day of contracts and negotiations.

and that brings me to my point, two points actually.

point #1


i could be embarrassed that i haven't had the same job for the past however many years. i could feel like a failure for changing hats so many times (it seems) to try to find myself. i could feel like i'm just a quitter. but i'm not. i know i'm not.  i bust my booty trying to make everything i do, no matter what it is work, and while for a while there (years ago) i like there was something wrong with me...i now have a completely shifted outlook.

point #2


if i had been in the same job for that long, i would have zero life experience other than i was born, went to K-12, went to college, got a job, found a husband, blah blah blah. and that's all good and well if you're not a writer. but it doesn't work so well if you are, ya know? being a writer means i need lots of lots of experiences, not just plain jane ones. of course a lot of them will come with some measure of pain, but again, that's what we writers need.

i don't know if i've said this before but when i was 12 or 13, i wanted to be a writer, more specifically a songwriter. my family is in music, it's what the "huff" tends to mean living in nashville. so i figured that writing meant it should be music. it was a natural fit i thought, and because i was also a lyrical dancer, i was way into the whole lyric thing. anyway, i remember this vividly. my dad and i were outside our little run-down lake house on old hickory lake in the driveway possibly loading or unloading the car. i said something like "dad, i want to write". it was a bold statement for my age maybe. and my dad, being a realist and the complete opposite of a stage parent, said "but ash, you have nothing to say yet". he didn't mean it as a put down. he meant it to be encouraging. but i was 12ish, so i went off the deep end for the next few minutes. i'm sure i cried, if not then, later. i do remember saying something like this: "nothing has happened to me! you and mom love each other, we live in a mid-size city (rather than a small town), i love my family, no tragedies have happened to us, nothing. the only thing i know i will eventually feel is when my heart is broken." i pouted and pouted and asked God to give me something to write about.  looking back, i howl laughing at that because it was as if i had sealed my own fate.

boy oh boy did i get my heart broken. severed in half, chopped into a million pieces, and sprinkled into the Tennessee River. it happened about seven years later, after a string of less sever breakups. so after i had wallowed enough, i looked up and said "thanks, God. now i have something to write about". kind of pathetic, but very true.

i wrote my first song-incidentally with my dad. i put it up on my website so you can hear it. click on the music section of this site on ashlyne.co. it's called "good for goodbye".  and then, after that, i was a writing fool.

skip to now, a decade later, almost to the month. i have had plenty of life experiences of my own, including the "regular" ones i thought i'd always have (college, marriage, buying a first house, thinking about having children). but what i write about are the crap experiences i didn't like at the time but now seem super valuable. like in falling stars, i write subtly about a life i led for four dense years. i took what i experienced, added what i know about my own town, a life living in a house with a producer, and a friend of mine from a Bible study and rolled it into one, but a lot of the details have truth to them.

if i hadn't gone through the pain i did in those years, that book couldn't have been written. it could have been written differently possibly with all my years living in nashville amongst artists and songwriters and producers, but living on the outskirts can only get you so far in a book when you're forming characters who need to be believable to the experts in that field. those four years of personal ups and downs in the music industry gave me that inside view. and i know for a fact they can happen. some of those are my story (with obvious changes).

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in conclusion

your story might be 100% the opposite from mine, but...isn't that the point? the job you're in right now gives you a different life perspective, even it it means you write about someone who hates his/her job so much that they might kill someone. please don't kill someone. but you get what i mean. in real estate i come across personalities i'd never think of on my own. i come across people who think so differently from me that i wouldn't have thought their words/decisions/reactions would be even believable. but every time i encounter one of these folks, i put that situation, personality, etc. in my writer's well to be called upon later when i need someone to come out of the woodwork and throw a curveball. 

your job, whatever it is, does that. and on top of you reading a lot, will give you a lot of practice with character development. 

tiny exercise


take it or leave it, but i suggest you get a little notebook, a skinny moleskin or one of those 99 cent pocket sized ones from the drugstore. keep it in a safe place or in your purse and add personality traits, a person you encounter, a situation you're in that you might want to forget to move on in your actual life but might be perfect for a future character to have to wade through. write it all down. make your job work for you for once. 

it might actually feel like your day job is just research. maybe not every day, but sometimes! 

it does not make you less of a writer to have another job. it just doesn't. so don't get sad or down or question it. just keep writing. (i am.) 

9.03.2014

quick trips & the last drops of summer

i can't believe it's september. but it is, and i have to say, i am PUMPED. i used to only love summer because it meant a break from school. but then once i graduated from college, that changed my love for summer forever. i have since loved fall the most, and it's here!

i got married in the fall, so i'm looking forward to another anniversary coming up. the leaves in tennessee are unbelievable when they change colors. the hot summer weather gives us a breather. and this year in particular, my mom and i are heading down to nantucket for a writer trip. i think i've mentioned that i've wanted to do that-i don't have many things on a bucket list except that. and we are doing it! 

but, here are some highlights from the past month or so in terms of summer. 
my handsome mase

i went to florida with my in-laws, partly for a mini-vacation, partly for my husband's company retreat.   i hadn't gone anywhere nor had i stepped foot outside (pale as can be) the whole summer, so it was nice to get some vitamin d. it was also nice to get away in general from a typical day's work. 


but i found a close panera (wifi and never ending coffee) and worked anyway!

working on the plane back home

then i turned twenty-nine last week, and my family took me to my favorite sushi spot in nashville. 



and on a whim, i joined my dad and sister on a drive back down to florida to meet my mom and her bff since 5th grade for the long weekend. here's my dad on our 8 hour drive last friday. we hit quite a bit of traffic including a little drug bust in alabama. we got there a little later than expected! :) 
my daddy
in florida, i got to be a huff again for a minute, which was fun. all of us are extremely busy and old now with lives. my sister is married and is a 1st grade teacher. my dad works, my mom works more than she should, and my brother works (and he still didn't get off for the weekend). so it was fun to be with the originals (almost all of us) for 48 hours. i slept with my sister in a queen bed like old-times,  and my mom, sister, and mom's best friend kept hiding a little old clown they found in random spots of the condo to freak each other out. it freaked me out to find him in a tooth brush holder in the bathroom staring at me at 7 in the morning! 

my sister maddie
from left, gavin (mom's bff), me,  maddie, mom, dad, aunt ang (mom's sister), and uncle 


our last morning.





and now we are in the throws of september. i can't wait to see what's in store for this season. all i know for sure is i'll be writing! :)